so," replied Ro.
Hawk turned to his birds, placed the two bluejays into a cage of woven willow osiers, and sent the eagles aloft.
"The mueagles will meet us by the bridge, since the skytrees are too thick for them to fly through easily, he explained.
Then Ro helped him close and shutter the windows, double check the injured birds, and prepare to leave. When they reached their horses, Hawk tied the cage and a small bag of clothes to his saddle. Then they rode back through the shadowed forest.
In the late afternoon quiet the huge trunks of the vaulting trees seemed to form walls that pressed in on them. The dark green foliage became black in the gloom, and the woods became a darkened cathedral. A prickling foreboding of danger, like a muted kettledrum, suddenly thudded almost imperceptibly in Roslyn's mind. Even as she called a warning to Hawk, the premonition shifted into the tones of a strident, insistent snare drum.
Hawk halted his horse and instinctively contacted the eagles soaring above the skytrees. They reported nothing unusual.
"What is it?" he asked Ro.
"I told you I had hunches, a foreknowledge of danger. Well, I've got one of those hunches now."
"Where? What?"
"I don't know—I'm not sure. But it's ahead . . . She paused and then said with a sudden air of command, "We go left."
Hawk couldn't pinpoint the change in her, but it surprised and startled him—perhaps it was the shift in her posture, the shading of her voice—she was suddenly a woman of authority, no longer a hesitant girl.
Before he had time to analyze the change, Roslyn's horse galloped forward, heading into the thick woods to the left of the path. Hawk followed automatically.
He studied the forest intently, seeking the source of the danger Ro sensed. The forest seemed peaceful; only the softened thud of hooves on the velvet carpet of fallen leaves and moss broke the silence. The air trapped beneath the thick canopy was still, almost oppressive, and smelled of decay.
Then he heard the crash of branches somewhere behind them. Instantly he contacted Stormrider. As the eagle dived toward the source of the sound, Hawk spotted a flash of green fur moving across the trail they had just left. Before Hawk could be sure of what he'd seen, the animal vanished into the woods, but it left behind a strong, sour scent that was unmistakable.
It was an osmur.
Hawk steered Stormrider in the direction the osmur had gone and at the same time linked with Windrifter. A cold fear gripped him as he spotted several more osmurs beneath the female eagle. Although the gigantic, apelike beasts normally traveled alone, they had somehow stumbled across a whole pack of them.
Suddenly Ro called out, "This way," veering back toward the right. She relied entirely on the clear certainty of her instinct—there was no picture of what would come, just knowledge of what to do—a certainty of the best course of action without any basis in fact or reason.
"Not that way," shouted Hawk as he galloped after her. Stormrider had spotted an osmur there. But even as he spoke, the eagle warned him that their previous direction would have led toward several more of the beasts.
Then Hawk's stomach tightened into a knot as the foul stench of the nearby osmur enveloped them.
Almost in unison Hawk and Ro pulled up their bows and nocked arrows.
As they rounded an immense tree trunk, Ro stopped abruptly. Her horse reared in fear, so she telepathically calmed it and Hawk's mount.
Ahead stood the osmur.
Although the beast was seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of teeth, claws, and muscles, Ro's sixth sense had not failed her. It was a baby and far less formidable than its parents.
Ro released her arrow. As it arched across the glade, the osmur turned toward her. Her shaft fell too far to the left, penetrating just below its shoulder.
Hawk reached Roslyn, sent his own arrow into the osmur's torso, and pressed his terrified horse forward, grabbing up his short javelin. He was
Hawk turned to his birds, placed the two bluejays into a cage of woven willow osiers, and sent the eagles aloft.
"The mueagles will meet us by the bridge, since the skytrees are too thick for them to fly through easily, he explained.
Then Ro helped him close and shutter the windows, double check the injured birds, and prepare to leave. When they reached their horses, Hawk tied the cage and a small bag of clothes to his saddle. Then they rode back through the shadowed forest.
In the late afternoon quiet the huge trunks of the vaulting trees seemed to form walls that pressed in on them. The dark green foliage became black in the gloom, and the woods became a darkened cathedral. A prickling foreboding of danger, like a muted kettledrum, suddenly thudded almost imperceptibly in Roslyn's mind. Even as she called a warning to Hawk, the premonition shifted into the tones of a strident, insistent snare drum.
Hawk halted his horse and instinctively contacted the eagles soaring above the skytrees. They reported nothing unusual.
"What is it?" he asked Ro.
"I told you I had hunches, a foreknowledge of danger. Well, I've got one of those hunches now."
"Where? What?"
"I don't know—I'm not sure. But it's ahead . . . She paused and then said with a sudden air of command, "We go left."
Hawk couldn't pinpoint the change in her, but it surprised and startled him—perhaps it was the shift in her posture, the shading of her voice—she was suddenly a woman of authority, no longer a hesitant girl.
Before he had time to analyze the change, Roslyn's horse galloped forward, heading into the thick woods to the left of the path. Hawk followed automatically.
He studied the forest intently, seeking the source of the danger Ro sensed. The forest seemed peaceful; only the softened thud of hooves on the velvet carpet of fallen leaves and moss broke the silence. The air trapped beneath the thick canopy was still, almost oppressive, and smelled of decay.
Then he heard the crash of branches somewhere behind them. Instantly he contacted Stormrider. As the eagle dived toward the source of the sound, Hawk spotted a flash of green fur moving across the trail they had just left. Before Hawk could be sure of what he'd seen, the animal vanished into the woods, but it left behind a strong, sour scent that was unmistakable.
It was an osmur.
Hawk steered Stormrider in the direction the osmur had gone and at the same time linked with Windrifter. A cold fear gripped him as he spotted several more osmurs beneath the female eagle. Although the gigantic, apelike beasts normally traveled alone, they had somehow stumbled across a whole pack of them.
Suddenly Ro called out, "This way," veering back toward the right. She relied entirely on the clear certainty of her instinct—there was no picture of what would come, just knowledge of what to do—a certainty of the best course of action without any basis in fact or reason.
"Not that way," shouted Hawk as he galloped after her. Stormrider had spotted an osmur there. But even as he spoke, the eagle warned him that their previous direction would have led toward several more of the beasts.
Then Hawk's stomach tightened into a knot as the foul stench of the nearby osmur enveloped them.
Almost in unison Hawk and Ro pulled up their bows and nocked arrows.
As they rounded an immense tree trunk, Ro stopped abruptly. Her horse reared in fear, so she telepathically calmed it and Hawk's mount.
Ahead stood the osmur.
Although the beast was seven feet tall and three hundred pounds of teeth, claws, and muscles, Ro's sixth sense had not failed her. It was a baby and far less formidable than its parents.
Ro released her arrow. As it arched across the glade, the osmur turned toward her. Her shaft fell too far to the left, penetrating just below its shoulder.
Hawk reached Roslyn, sent his own arrow into the osmur's torso, and pressed his terrified horse forward, grabbing up his short javelin. He was
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